


Fashionistas

by valderys



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: camelotsolstice, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-21
Updated: 2011-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-17 04:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valderys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of London’s Fashion Week, top designer Artorius is short one model - and Merlin is looking for a job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fashionistas

“I don’t care!” Artorius spat furiously at his long term assistant, Leon. “You just enjoy torturing me - why don’t you admit it.” He held up his hand (manicured, buffed, nails a rather a fetching shade of pink) in a dramatic stopping motion. Leon frowned anxiously, but only a little - it wasn’t as though Artorius didn’t react in a similar manner twenty times a day. “See this hand I’m holding up - talk to it, find out if it cares! See how worn to the bone it is, how battered by fortune, how calloused by indifference and a cold cruel world. I don’t know how you can even ask me such a thing...”

Artorius turned away, the trailing sleeve of his billowing silk shirt swooping in an even more dramatic a fashion, like a dying swan in a ballet, if the dying swan had ever been painted a bright fuchsia. Leon sighed. It wasn’t as though he’d expected any other reaction. Expecting Artorius to accept a last minute replacement model as part of his catwalk show on the eve of London’s Fashion Week, no less, was only asking for trouble. But it wasn’t Leon’s fault, and it wasn’t the new model’s either - it was Cedric who had broken his leg while on some pathetic Gothic-style photo shoot whilst hopping about in some sort of crow costume - honestly the ideas of some of these photographers, Leon despaired of them, he really did.

He hurried after Artorius, tapping his clipboard impatiently. “Well, it’s Merlin or no-one. Do you know how hard it is to find top-class talent at the start of Fashion Week? Merlin isn’t a known name - yet. Which is how we were able to secure his services, but I’ve seen his work, and it’s good.”

Artorius continued to flounce around his studio, casting reproachful glances at Leon, but the circuits were getting smaller, which meant he was coming around to the idea. Leon suppressed a sigh for the umpteenth time. Artorius was a brilliant designer and, when he wasn’t showing off, not a bad employer. He must be, as Leon had never taken up any of the other offers he regularly received. Or he was just stupidly loyal. There was that.

“Well. I’ll look at him. That’s all I can promise.” Artorius blinked back at Leon, defiant and pouting in equal measure. His pale blue eyes were delicately rimmed in black, bringing their colour out beautifully. Of course. Artorius could have been a model himself except that his talent would never have allowed him to play second fiddle to anyone else’s designs. Leon wanted to sigh for a completely different reason - despite being as out and proud as a season ticket to ‘Priscilla’ could make him, nevertheless Artorius was known to be extremely careful with his heart, and even with his bed. It was something to do with not showing favouritism, Leon rather thought, and nothing to do with loving himself more than anybody else. Leon admired his professionalism. Really.

“He’s in the hall,” Leon offered, trying not to smirk, “I’ll call him, shall I?” Before Artorius could even open his mouth, he shouted, “ _Merlin_!”

Artorius winced, and then his mouth dropped open in artless shock, an expression Leon wasn’t sure he’d ever seen on Artorius’ face before, not such an unguarded look anyway. He swung round to see what Artorius was seeing.

Merlin was looking stormy, obviously not happy to be kept waiting in the hallway, and Leon had to admit it was a good look on him. His jeans were so worn and thin they were almost transparent, and they clung to Merlin’s hips, but only just. His boots were all black leather and silver chains, and his t-shirt more of the same, black with some band logo Leon had never heard of. He had a scarf round his neck, and a leather jacket that was vintage Versace, if Leon’s eye for such things wasn’t wrong, but battered and scuffed in an extremely casual manner that Leon rather admired.

But it was the face that did it, as for so many models, that certain _something_ that Merlin obviously had in spades, the smoulder, the full lips, the blue eyes snapping in anger, the black hair spiked up in an almost fluffy style - that nevertheless suited him, Leon couldn’t deny it. Merlin was so much more than his portfolio pictures that it took his breath away.

And more to the point, he obviously took _Artorius’_ breath away. That was a first.

“Are we done?” Merlin demanded, “I have actual places I could be, with, oh, I don’t know, actual people who want to talk to me instead of leaving me hanging around like lost luggage. While you complain about me at the top of your lungs, like a spoilt child, as though I’m too deaf to be able to hear you through a glass _door_.”

Leon tried smiling, in a placating fashion, but he had a feeling, looking between them, that Merlin hadn’t even noticed his existence. He wanted to sigh again, for a different reason - he always seemed to be the bridesmaid, and never the bride. Story of his life.

“It’s my studio, and if I want to shout, or throw things, or... or... drink caramel macchiato, then I will!” Arthur yelled back. They stood there glaring at one another. It was obviously the battle of the pouts.

“Merlin,” said Leon, in his smoothest, blandest voice, “If you could stand on the podium, please, we can see how you stand, assess your look, and then we’ll need to see you walk, of course.”

He thought for a moment that Merlin might refuse, but whatever sparks were crackling between the two of them, it wasn’t enough to cause Merlin to walk out - or not yet anyway. Maybe, in fact, it was what was causing him to stay. He walked, in a sinuous snake-hipped glide, over to their smaller podium, where all the models were fitted for their outfits. Leon’s mouth went dry, and he glanced at Artorius, who had narrowed his eyes. He almost looked angry, and Leon wasn’t sure why. It meant he missed it when Merlin stumbled slightly, so all he caught was the speed with which Artorius darted forward to steady him, the split second image of fuchsia against black, blond against ebony, tucked in close, a hand under his elbow.

It only lasted an instant. Before Merlin pointedly removed his arm and stepped up properly, and straight into pose, eyes on the middle distance, one hip slightly cocked forward, a finger tucked into a belt loop. Leon nodded, he had it, whatever ‘it’ was. But for confirmation, and reference, he stepped behind their camera on its tripod and took a few shots anyway.

“It’s a pity about the ears,” said Artorius, sharply, as he took a walk around the still centre that was Merlin.

Leon hadn’t even noticed, he was so taken with the overall package. Although now he looked and considered the matter, it was true - they were rather prominent. Leon wasn’t sure it mattered though - sometimes a small humanising touch made the beauty all the more striking. Like Kate Moss and her slightly crooked teeth.

Without looking down, Merlin retorted, “Just keep talking. I don’t have to be here, you know. I’m a medical student - I only model part-time to pay a few bills. Means my student loan won’t be through the roof.”

Artorius snorted. “An amateur. My collection deserves better - I’ve slaved for months over these designs, and you expect to come in and _trip_ all over them?”

This time Merlin did break pose - to glare down at Artorius. “I don’t expect anything from you - obviously. And when I’m a brain surgeon and you’ve got a tumour - you can come and say the same thing to me!”

They stared at each other for a second, before Merlin’s lips twitched, his face animating even more as he tried suppressing his smile. And then the unthinkable happened, almost giving Leon a palpitation. Artorius’ mouth quirked upwards as well, before he giggled into his sleeve, eyes dancing as he looked up at Merlin.

“What does that even _mean_?” Artorius asked, still laughing.

“I don’t know,” said Merlin, shrugging his shoulders, his grin wide and disarming. “You annoy me quite a lot, did you know that?”

“I had noticed. I annoy a lot of people, don’t I Leon? Most of them don’t bother to argue back though, since I can make or break a model in this city.”

Merlin sniffed, his beautiful aquiline nose wrinkling delightfully. Leon bit his lip, even as Artorius looked entranced.

“It’s lucky I don’t care then, isn’t it?” he said, and stepped down from the podium, almost into Artorius’ arms.

There was a split second pause when no-one moved or even breathed. Leon wondered quietly if he was allowed to mourn his stupid crush with Belgian chocolate Haagan Dazs, before Merlin, his voice suddenly much huskier said, “Did you want to see me walk?”

Artorius cleared his throat. “Walking, yes. Why don’t you walk over... there?” He gestured towards the shrouded stands where the collection was housed, but his gaze remained suspiciously fixed as Merlin strolled over in a model’s loose-limbed, and yet tightly controlled gait. Then he posed as though on show to a thousand flashing cameras, to the left, to the right, and then turned around to pin Artorius with a look so smouldering it took Leon’s breath away.

“What will I be wearing then?” said Merlin cheerfully, suddenly relaxing in some indefinable way, and reverting to ordinary. Or as ordinary as he seemed to be able to manage. Leon wasn’t sure Merlin really did ordinary - there was something about him. Something magical.

“Who’s to say you’ll be wearing anything?” said Artorius, but it was in a pretty perfunctory way, and Merlin grinned again, before raising an eyebrow. Especially as Artorius was even now walking towards to his stands and pulling off silken covers one after another to leave them pooling on the floor. Leon nearly interrupted, because he could see that Artorius wasn’t uncovering the outfits that Cedric was meant to be wearing in the show, but instead his signature pieces, the centre of the collection. Merlin was exclaiming over the revealed garments in soft coos and gasped exclamations, as though he was in heaven. Or in bed, perhaps. Leon folded his arms. Merlin might be a medical student but he knew his stuff at least, since his appreciation seemed genuine. Leon hoped it was. Although Merlin didn’t seem the type to lie about something like that - it didn’t seem like he would care enough to spare Artorius’ feelings.

“What won’t I be wearing then?” Merlin asked, staring down at Artorius as he knelt to unbuckle the straps on the Midnight piece. His lashes fluttered as he stared up at Merlin and Leon felt as though he shouldn’t be witnessing this, but moving or making a sound would ruin it, this fragile thing. He’d never seen Artorius like this, never seen him so vulnerable, so bowled over by a person, by a mere slip of a lad in a Versace jacket.

“You’ll take it all off for me, Merlin, won’t you? So you can wear Midnight.”

It was a geeky joke that Arthur had been giggling over for weeks. Something to do with Terry Pratchett, Leon didn’t really get it. But Merlin did. His lips quirked again in a blinding grin as he stared down at Arthur, and then he reached up and slowly started unwrapping his scarf. It felt as though acres of pale white skin were slowly revealed inch by inch, the slim column of his throat somehow seeming exposed now, and even when he took off the rest of his clothes, unselfconsciously stripping down to grey boxer briefs, it still didn’t make him any more naked than that first second when he had made the decision to unwind his scarf.

Bizarrely, Leon felt better. He moved forward on silent feet, to help Artorius dress Merlin in the Midnight piece. He was an acolyte now, in some strange way, a worshipper at the feet of beauty, like so many others outside their industry, and yet so few within it. They’d lost the magic, Leon thought, there was so much politics now, so much screaming and shouting before a show. He’d forgotten what had drawn him to it all in the first place. He watched Artorius flutter over Merlin, adjusting a buckle here, a strap there. The piece was naturally in a dark blue, a midnight blue, with a single burst of sequins, a scatter of silver, like the stars had decided to drop from the sky to nestle on the sleeve, and the buckles and straps served to tie them there, tight to the earth, so they couldn’t fly back to the heavens again. It was a beautiful outfit, typical of Artorius, stylish and yet other-worldly, and in it Merlin looked... Leon had no words. He knew why he stayed working with Artorius. It was for moments like this.

Playfully, Artorius tugged at a buckle, and murmured, ”I’ll have to let these out a notch or two. You actually eat something once in a while, which is more than I can say for most models.“ His voice was hushed, although lighthearted, which was fitting for their mood, for the quiet importance it seemed to have acquired. Leon was almost proud of him, but Merlin frowned.

“I don’t eat too much. I barely eat at all if I’m on call.”

He took a step back, drawing the last buckle out of Artorius’ hands. Who looked confused but stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “What is it this time? It’s not as though I _like_ stick-thin models who live on gin and cigarettes. I prefer...” He looked away, as though he’d caught himself before he could reveal too much.

But Merlin’s eyes were blazing. “I’m sorry that I actually thought we were getting somewhere here, but clearly I was barking up entirely the wrong tree. If you want models who don’t even look like real people to parade around like skeletons at Crufts then I won’t even bother. I don’t know why I even considered that you might be different. I don’t need this shit, I really don’t.”

He backed off even further, casting shaky little glances over his shoulder as though he didn’t know where to run. Leon didn’t understand it, he thought they’d all been getting on like a house on fire. Or, well, Merlin and Artorius at least, and though it might have been unheard of before, he’d seen it happen, seen the chemistry between them, right there in front of him. This was crazy.

Merlin was headed for the door, and Leon didn’t know what to do. He’d have to stop him, of course, but he wasn’t the fighting type, he couldn’t act the bouncer. But if any of the collection got into the wrong hands before the show, they were all stuffed.

“Merlin!” Leon squeaked, “You’re wearing Midnight!” The joke didn’t even feel a little bit funny now.

Merlin looked down at himself then, and almost seemed to see the suit for the first time. Leon wondered where he’d been looking before. Into Artorius’ eyes, probably. He spun then, a little shakily, and caught sight of himself in one of the many studio mirrors, dark hair wildly standing on end, mouth parted, cheeks pink against the paleness of his face. Merlin froze, staring, and Leon didn’t feel even a little bit like being bitchy about model’s vanity. This didn’t feel like that somehow. He didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t as simple as that.

But it wouldn’t matter to Artorius, his temper was beyond legendary. Leon was opening his mouth to agree with the blistering diatribe that Artorius was bound to let loose when he realised he would have to be surprised again. He thought he might be starting to get used to it.

Artorius wasn’t yelling or screaming or telling Merlin how useless he was, all of which was entirely within the realm of his usual behaviour. Instead he was approaching him as though he was a skittish horse, ready to bolt - or, since it was likely he’d never seen a horse in his life - as though Merlin was an overly touchy journalist with the power to damn or elevate with one stroke of his pen. Arthur certainly could cajole when he wanted to, Leon had seen it before, and it seemed that this was another of those rare occasions.

“Now Merlin,” said Artorius, his fingers stretched wide as though to keep him safely penned in, an avuncular tone in his voice, like a kindly uncle. Leon winced. Artorius could be terribly patronising at times. “This is no time to throw a wobbly, or act like a giant girl. I want you to look at yourself in that mirror and then tell me that you don’t want to wear my clothes. I can design things you couldn’t possibly dream of in your deepest fantasies, and I can design them all for _you_.”

Merlin was still looking in the mirror but at that he made to turn round, spluttering indignantly, although his colour was going back to his usual milk pale, so Leon figured he couldn’t be so angry any more. “Who are you calling a giant girl? What _is_ it with you and all the insults?”

Artorius was cautiously moving all this time, getting closer to Merlin, and at that, he managed to fold his hands onto Merlin’s shoulders, effectively pinning him in place. They stared at each other in the reflection they made, Artorius’ head hooked over Merlin’s shoulder, so close their hair was mingling, looking at each other in the glass, before Artorius finally whispered, “I _want_ to design you clothes, I can see galaxies in your eyes, and dragons in your heart - audiences and critics around the world will fall at our feet, and it will all be nothing more than we deserve. Never mind the insults - I shout all the time, you’ll have to get used to it. Wear my clothes for me, Merlin. Let’s begin a partnership that will last throughout fashion history. All you have to do is let us shine.”

Leon wanted to applaud, Artorius had presented such a glorious picture, and he knew it would come true. In his excitement he lifted the fabric in his hands to hide his emotion, and only at the last minute realised it was Merlin’s scarf. There was a spicy scent that lingered there and Leon allowed himself to breathe it in. This was history in the making, he just knew it was.

Until Merlin laughed. He threw his head back and roared, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. Artorius was frozen with his hands still on Merlin’s shoulders, and Leon didn’t know where to look he was so ashamed. Surely, Artorius really would kill him now...

“Look, I’m sorry,” said Merlin, still hiccuping, “I know I’ve been acting like a tit, but I don’t need speeches straight out of Miss Congeniality to bring me fluttering to your bosom or whatever that shite was supposed to be about.” He looked Artorius in the eye, still in the mirror. “I do appreciate it though, I know you meant it all sincerely - but I am not the giant girl you take me for, Artorius, or whatever your name really is. Arthur maybe?”

There were two gasps in unison, how dare someone mention the Forbidden Word!

“Yeah, I thought so.” Merlin stood up straighter, which forced Artorius a little further away. He turned this way and that to see himself at several angles in the mirror. “This is bloody glorious though, you weren’t wrong about that. I just let myself get carried away, ok? And then when you said...” He took a deep breath. “Look, I used to be a fat little boy back in the day. Comments about my weight set me off. Which is stupid, I know, because I haven’t been that child since I hit my growth spurt and was suddenly able to grow a beard in three days. And given that particular hang-up, I don’t know why the fuck I’m even trying modelling. But anyway. There you go. That’s it. That’s me. If you still want me.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes wide. Leon was so tense he realised he’d scrunched Merlin’s scarf up into a ball, and had to consciously relax his hands. Randomly, he noticed that the blue of Merlin’s eyes was perfectly brought out by the dark blue of the fabric. He realised that he desperately wanted Artorius not to blow this, that he wanted Merlin to wear their clothes, to become the ‘find’ of the season, to add his sparkle to theirs. They really would become unstoppable...

Artorius turned Merlin around so he was looking at him directly, and not just at his reflection in the mirror. They were very close, less than an arm’s length apart, and Merlin’s breathing seemed be getting faster, and his cheeks were flushing once more. Artorius licked his lips, before reaching out and tenderly brushing a wayward strand of dark hair back from Merlin’s forehead. Merlin closed his eyes for a second, and might have shivered, before opening them and staring earnestly back into Artorius’ searching gaze.

“So what you are saying,” said Artorius, at last, as the moment stretched, “Is that I’ll try not to be a prat, if you attempt not to be an idiot?”

As simply as that the sunshine of Merlin’s smile broke across his face again, but this time across Artorius’ too. They stood there grinning at each other like loons. “Something like that,” said Merlin.

“Oh thank god!” Leon exclaimed, and then squeaked and hid his face in anxious embarrassment, when both Merlin and Artorius turned to stare at him in surprise.

If the ground didn’t open up and swallow him, maybe tomorrow he could tell them to hurry up and kiss already.


End file.
